Dormant
by shadowcat012
Summary: "Without any faith. Without any light. Condemn me to live. Condemn me to lie. Inside I am..."


**A/N:** This is for all of you wonderful viewers on youtube who supported this idea! MaddieRose, a special thanks goes to you for pestering me to get this out! I hope this is the start of a great and fun adventure!

* * *

**Dormant**

**Chapter One: **Assignment

_

* * *

_

_Warmth engulfed her completely._

_Laughter echoed from a distance, soon followed by a luscious, wordless lullaby that melted what little consciousness she had. _

_Soon, the spicy smell of wildflowers tickled her nostrils. When she opened her mouth to breathe, thick sunlight flowed inside. The radiance coursed through her veins, filling her body with a content drowsiness that had her feeling as if she were submerged in a tub filled with honey._

_The lullaby came to an abrupt halt._

_Blindly extending her arms, her fingers grasped only cold air. Slowly, the warmth inside her began to drain and she felt like a baby suddenly without its protecting blanket._

_She fought to lift her eyelids and search out the bearer of that sweet voice. Her lungs constricted and she realized she couldn't breathe. Panic assaulted her senses as she struggled to move, to breathe; to do something!_

"Mistress," A young girl, no older than twelve, hesitantly approached the velvet cushions upon which her mistress laid whimpering.

A veneer of sweat coated the young woman's body. Her cheeks flushed a dark red while her fingers dug into the satin covers entangled in her legs.

"_Mistress_," The young girl persisted emphatically as she placed a small hand on the woman's shoulder.

With a gasp, dark eyelashes flashed open, revealing a pair of dark focused yet unseeing orbs.

A dream. That damned dream again.

Once the roaring of rushed blood ceased in her ears, Netad noticed the young serving girl beside her asking the ridiculous question on her well being.

"I am fine." Netad rasped. Immediately, she clutched at her throat, surprised at how parched she had become.

The young girl instantly stepped back and bowed her head. Brilliant sun rays filled the chamber through a wide open archway that was crafted, like every other pillar in the chamber, from cool slabs of marble. The rock had been chosen specifically to counter the extreme high temperature that would hit midday.

Now that Netad had regained consciousness, her body began to register the intense heat that simmered from the sunrays. Subconsciously resting the palm over her heart, she wondered how she could still feel such dreadful cold inside.

The young servant girl, Sasha, if she remembered correctly, cautiously raised her voice into the room.

"Mistress, the day is no longer young. Lord Tash has been requesting your presence for some time now."

Thoughts of her dream (or nightmare) were quickly pushed aside as Netad lifted herself from her bedding. Verbally, she was torn between demanding why she had not been woken earlier and remarking on how her Lord Tash never requested but ordered. Instead, she remained silent and swiftly began the process of preparing for the day.

* * *

The dining table was possibly Lord Tash's favorite article of furniture in his entire household. Each morning his servants would fill the long garnished top with bowls of hickory pork and charred flanks as well as blocks of cheese and an assortment of plump, juicy fruits alongside his bowlike goblet that was always filled with the richest wine. As he sat at the dining table, thoroughly enjoying the banquet before him, Tash lifted his dark, bearded face to the entranceway where his granddaughter stood mutely.

Lifting his thick hand into the golden light that filled the room, Tash indicated a single cushion on the floor opposite him.

Dismissing the servant from her side, Netad slowly lowered herself to the cushion and warily watched as a dark figure stealthily approached the dining table. Deraj, Tash's trusted advisor, stood in the background, his dark wardrobe clashing greatly with the warmth and light in the room. His beady black eyes pierced through her from underneath his low turban. A chill ran down Netad's spine.

The dark bush that covered Deraj's lower face split in the middle to reveal an arrogant grin.

Defiantly, Netad set her jaw and returned her full attention to her grandfather who, while sucking the last morsel of meat from a bone, had missed the wordless interaction.

"Much has been brought to my attention this morning." The lord began as he pulled a clean fabric to wipe across his mouth. While he did have a love for devouring many foods, Tash had never in his life left a trace of this love on any part of his person. "Prince Rabadash, along with a chosen court, is headed North on an exhibition to woo the beautiful Gentle Queen of Narnia."

"Quite a feat for our prince." Netad responded evenly.

"You," Tash continued as if Netad had not spoken. "Are to go with the prince and catalog every part of the journey. Calormene's records will not suffer any lack of knowledge simply because I have duties to this Empire."

Netad's usually schooled features creased as she attempted to discern her guardian's reasoning.

"Have you not wished to go to Narnia from childhood?" Tash questioned sharply.

"Yes, of course I have." Netad breathed quickly, snapping her now wide eyes to Tash. Her excitement dropped drastically when Deraj leaned forward to whisper in her grandfather's ear.

The Tarkaan's face remained strict.

"I am taking a gamble in sending you for this task, girl. The Tisroc (may he live forever) has made his displeasure known for having a woman write any piece of our history. However, as I cannot be two places at once (and have more pressing matters to record instead of such frivolous journeys) you will go in my stead. Should you fail or bring any dishonor upon my line, I _will_ disown and rid you from my household. Do you understand your place?"

Netad returned the man's serious gaze with a firm resolve. "I understand, my lord."

* * *

Muscles extended swiftly and with great force as wielded swords clashed and tufts of dirt flew. Grunts mingled with laughter.

"Come on, Valdric! You're slowing down!"

A young soldier clad in training gear swiped his sword for a shot at his opponent's head. The attack was quickly parried, forcing the soldier to twist out of the way and regain his balance.

The once cool morning air had waned into high noon heat as the pungent smell of sweat began to drift heavily around the sparring pair. Intense dark eyes sized up the state of an equally exhausted soldier. The match would have a winner soon, no doubt. If Valdric, first and only son of Archenland's decorated war General, wished to keep boasting rights over his childhood friend, that winner needed to be _him_.

The opponents launched forward as one, attacking vigorously and blocking just as fervently. In three seconds, Valdric had his opponent pinned to the ground by the end of his sword.

Stepping forward, the young soldier smiled brightly and cocked his head to the side. Locks of raven hair drenched in sweat fell across his forehead.

"What was that you were saying, Revilo?"

The equally young soldier on the ground rolled his eyes and pushed the tip of the sword away from his throat.

"Why haven't you flown away yet with that enormous head of yours?" Revilo questioned, his green eyes glaring.

Sheathing his sword, Valdric helped his friend to his feet.

"Don't complain, my friend. Just get better."

The ringing of a deep melodious bell soared across the blue sky and seeped through the many brushes of the thicket in which Valdric and Revilo were standing. The bell in the high tower only ever rang at intervals when the changing of the palace guard took place.

Valdric looked back to his companion with the slightest speck of alarm on his face. Without a word, both took off at a sprint.

"Just so you know!" Revilo shouted as he led the way through the thicket. "Should we be late; all the blame rests upon you!"

Valdric couldn't help but smirk as he leapt over a fallen trunk. Anyone else, he would have challenged the blame to rest upon the last one to enter Anvard's wall. But, where Valdric dominated in swordplay, Revilo excelled in speed.

* * *

"_Thrice_ this week you have reported _late_ to your post under Lord Balfin. There have been several complaints of your poor behavior for the past few months that are not only tarnishing your reputation but Revilo's as well. You are also costing my word every time I come to your defense and secure you a position elsewhere. What have you to say for yourself?" War General Val paused his pacing and waited impatiently for a response.

With feet placed shoulder-width apart and hands resting on the small curve of his lower back, Valdric adorned an uncaring countenance.

"I have little to say, _Father_, precisely because my choice words will lead to confusion on your part and punishment on mine."

Val's hard expression melted into one of exhaustion. The War General turned away from his son and circled to stand behind his desk.

"You speak of irrelevant things, boy."

"What I want is irrelevant." Valdric surmised dryly.

"You do not know what you want." Val growled. "You perceive life in such an irresponsible light, I often wonder what I did wrong in raising you." Valdric bit his tongue to remain silent. "You are my son. You are my only heir. There will come a day when Archenland is called to war and _you_ will be leading the ranks under our king's name. Your duty is to Archenland and you owe this country excellent conduct and behavior."

A long silence fell upon them then. Valdric could hear the far off sound of carts moving through the cobbled streets down in the market place.

"Is this lecture over?" He finally questioned, hoping this response would greatly irritate the general.

Val's expression hardened once more as he physically pulled away from the soldier before him.

"You've been assigned a mission. The king has informed me of a Calormene caravan headed north for Narnia. This band is led by Prince Rabadash himself." Reading the question on his son's face, Val continued. "Their intentions are strictly political. From what I understand, Calormen is in search of a tighter truce with the northern country."

Falling back on both the history he knew of the southern country and rumors he'd heard of the foreign prince, Valdric failed to see what sort of mission he could be assigned.

"Because the caravan will be marching through Archenland, our king has ordered we not only accommodate them for a night but accompany them to Narnia as well."

Before his father could continue, Valdric quickly spoke his thoughts. "To clarify, the caravan will be staying at the palace in their own quarters and I will be assigned to lead as _escort_ to Narnia?"

"Revilo, in fact, will be leading the guard that escorts Prince Rabadash's caravan. You, in essence, will be assigned the position of escort of Prince Corin on his month long visit to Narnia."

"You are assigning me an old maid's job?" Valdric's distaste for the idea was evident in his voice.

"You are to protect and serve Archenland's prized prince. You should be honored."

"Have you _met_ our prince?"

Val expressed no sign of amusement. "Consider it punishment then. I expect nothing but excellence from you here on out. You are dismissed."

Pressing his lips into a thin line, the young soldier turned from the general and exited the room.

Once the echo of footfalls faded from the corridor, Val let out the faintest of sighs that slowly left his lungs. Just once; he found himself reflecting as his eyes fell upon the broad map across his desk; he'd have liked their encounter to end on a good note.

* * *

**A/N:** Was that a sufficient enough first chapter? Rest assured, the Pevensies WILL be in the next chapter! (mumbles) Just a forewarning, it will be awhile before I am able to write up the next chapter. BUT THAT ASIDE. What did you think? Please, don't be afraid to let me know. All criticism is accepted here! Well. Constructive criticism. Until next time!


End file.
